Changes
by goldennotblonde
Summary: AU fic diverging in POA. Remus spends a full moon in the Shrieking Shack after Black's attack on the Fat Lady and has an unwelcome visitor. COMPLETE.
1. Part I

**Title:** Changes

**Author:** goldennotblonde

**Rating:** PG-13?

**Pairing:** Remus/Sirius

**Warnings:** Violence, a little gore.

**Summary:** AU diverging in PoA, Remus spends the full moon after Halloween in the Shrieking Shack and has an unwelcome visitor.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and co. are the creation of J. K. Rowling, not me.

**Author notes:** Rowling's universe sometimes seems to be ruled by Murphy's Law, where the worst that can happen, does happen. So while I feel she would never be so kind as to write anything like this, I wanted to write it, just because I wanted to see it and make it plausible. Here's hoping I've come close. One of the lines is stolen and adapted from Tamora Pierce's 'Alanna,' one of my favourite books, even over Harry Potter. Ducks flying tomatoes. Chocolate if you know which. Feedback and concrit are _very _welcome. The first is like candy and the second helps me make better fic for you! 14,058 words total.

* * *

**Changes, Part 1**

The full moon fell just a few days after Sirius' attack on the Fat Lady.

Remus was unaccustomed to remaining angry for extended periods of time. It was not a feeling he was comfortable with. The wolf became more violent when he was troubled, requiring him to keep a tight rein on his emotions at all times. Over the years it had become habit, but sometimes an incident like this occurred and there was nothing he could do but lock himself away, make sure he could reach a healer in the morning, and hope he'd be alive to do so. Suppressing the feelings didn't help, either; he had to deal with them one way or another, because if he simply shoved them away, they would resurface while the wolf was free, fuelling its rage and resulting in him getting ripped to shreds for lack of other prey.

The wolfsbane potion made it possible to spend the full moon in his office, safe from damaging people, things, himself; but after the Welcome feast, these first classes with Harry, meeting him again at last after so many years, teaching him, and then Sirius' attack a few days ago… it was too much.

The wolf was so much more dangerous when he was even a little bit troubled or restless. He'd tested Severus' potion the full moon before school started, because he had to be sure it would work, and since then it _had_ worked, but he was far from confident it would tonight. Maybe later, after he'd been using it for a while, he would feel comfortable staying in his less secure office in this state, but now he sat naked on a battered and mouldy chair in a decrepit place that had for a large part of his childhood been his own personal hell. Remembering the exceptions to that hell brought up people, faces he desperately wanted to bury, and he began to regret coming to this place, saturated as it was with memories. Some of them burned like bile in his throat, bitter betrayal making him want to scream until he almost welcomed the rising of the moon, giving him another, less painful reason to do so.

Coarse wolf hairs forced their way up through his skin, burning as they grew. He was being pulled in all directions, crushed in others until his body caved, cracked, dislocated, bled and healed. His brain was remoulding itself to fit a different skull when he saw the trap door move. He felt another scream escape him, despair - thinking he was hallucinating, thinking the potion had gone wrong. Then the wooden door lifted the rest of the way, and a long-familiar but bedraggled form heaved itself out of the tunnel and trotted in his direction, soaking wet, canine eyes watching him cautiously.

He screamed again, this time in anger, the scream changing in his stretching throat, modulating into an agonized howl as the last bit of the change shuddered over him and he launched himself in an attack on his oldest friend.

Padfoot dodged, narrowly avoiding the wolf's snapping jaws and skittered a little on the splintered wood, catching himself and avoiding the other's enraged eyes, avoiding the challenge meeting them would send. He had to stay on the defensive; the last thing he wanted to do tonight was hurt Remus. They circled, the dog at a disadvantage; not meeting the wolf's maddened gaze meant each attack was half a beat slower in registering, each attack came that much closer to ripping his throat out and spilling his lifeblood in the dust. A fat lot of good he'd do Harry dead.

Staying on the defensive meant he conserved some of his energy though, and it was enough. Enough to wait out the wolf, enough to maybe survive the night. The wolf had incredible strength, yes, and vast reserves, but if he could get him to use them up, maybe he'd have a chance. Just maybe, and maybe was all he needed.

For now though, Moony's speed was harrowing, but in the midst of the fight Padfoot felt something change. Sirius didn't know it, but the potion was fast losing the battle with the wolf, the rage fuelled the wolf in its fight against the potent ingredients holding it in check in Remus' mind. In the space of a minute, the potion had lost and the wolf could no longer remember reason or why or how he came to be here, circling the dog and searching for a lethal opening. Neither had yet been marked, but both were tiring. Padfoot was weighed down with all the rainwater in his coat. He'd shaken it out when he'd entered the tunnel, but his fur still held much of it in, plastering it against his skin and filling the room with wet-dog smell.

In the deepest part of his mind, beyond the betrayal, before the years in grieving hurt solitude, something told Remus that the dog was a friend, and the wolf recognized Padfoot.

At the same time, in a different, shallower part, rage had turned to hunger; hunger for prey and the hunt. He stopped, confused and uncertain while the dog watched him warily - not his eyes still, but his muscles, looking for any hint of the bunching that came before a lunge. The wolf had been without companions these many years, and that deepest part was growling at him now, insistent in its claim.

One hesitant step, cautious legs stiff in a habit picked up from running with, of all things, a stag. Two, and he was close enough to examine the dog, to sniff his face and breathe in the almost-forgotten scent. A moment, and his plumed tail waved; once, twice. Decision made, he bestowed his greeting in the form of a wet canine tongue. Reassured, the dog panted, catching his breath before running after his friend, who tore about the Shack in a frenzy, searching for a way out.

The night would be long and he was already spent, but he welcomed it as he dreaded the morning.

* * *

Whether he wanted it to or not, morning came. At first light, before the sun even showed above the horizon, its rays outshone the moon, still present in the sky and stole its power. Not that either could be seen through the storm that crashed outside, tearing and smashing at the fragile-looking building. The wolf had exhausted himself hours ago, curling up in a tight ball on the floor in sleep. Padfoot watched him through the night, nose on his paws, stretched out along the worn floor, thinking and waiting. He was tired, but he couldn't sleep, not if he wished to be awake when the sun rose.

In fifth year when he'd first mastered the animagus transformation, he'd had trouble hanging on to human thoughts or considering anything remotely long-term while in dog form, but it wasn't as difficult now when he really wanted to. He sighed, he didn't want to think about these things, but he had to. The slight noise woke the wolf, who opened one eye sleepily, then lifted his head, ears pricked towards the east and the rising sun. The change this time was easier, but still painful to watch. Remus would not appreciate him of all people watching; he probably hated him. But watch he did, because he couldn't afford to turn his back on one who thought him a murderer. That hurt, still hurt, even now. They had been close, very close years before and Sirius knew exactly when his friend's sanity would return. He disliked doing this to Moony; if he didn't already want him dead, he would now.

The agonizing change he'd witnessed last night reversed itself and when Remus' face was human again, Sirius changed also, his own painless transition an unintentional mockery. Remus was still shaking from his, curled in the dust, oblivious to all else. Hesitant, Sirius crouched beside him began rubbing circles into his back in an attempt to soothe. Occasionally a shudder would run over the werewolf and he would twitch, his body readjusting to being human again. Shaking his head at himself, Sirius hauled him up and gathered him into his arms from behind. The effort took more out of him than it should have, but not as much as it could. His friend weighed even less than he had when he'd seen him last. He made a face - the years had not been kind to either of them. Remus would hate him for this too, but Sirius knew from long experience that he wouldn't come out of his pain-induced daze for quite a while yet.

He had no way of knowing about the Wolfsbane potion.

* * *

Pain.

But not so bad; not so bad as it's been anyway. Sirius was cradling him from behind, his arms wrapped around Remus' bare chest and murmuring assurances in a soft voice that was his and not his; it was over, he was going to be all right. He was almost drowned out by the storm battering the shack as if demanding entry. The little building might have looked fragile from the outside, but Remus knew it was solidly held together with magic and tight as a drum. He cracked his eyes open slowly, relieved to find secure warmth at his back and looked down at the arms holding him.

Dirty. That wasn't unusual after the full moon; he himself was filthy and bloodstained.

Withered.

Skeletal, in tattered sleeves.

He was not seventeen anymore, this wasn't the Padfoot he knew, this was the man responsible for the death of his friends… holding him. Sirius really i was /i crazy. Fear made him tense, and his mind raced.

* * *

Sirius knew the moment Remus became aware of his surroundings, far earlier than he'd expected. Mentally, he cursed himself for seven kinds of a fool. He hadn't expected it so soon, he was supposed to be on his guard by the time it happened, and he had no idea what to do or say now. He felt Remus stiffen, and waited, afraid to move. Everything depended on Remus' perception.

* * *

So Sirius was crazy.

Wonderful.

Remus forced himself to exhale slowly and take stock of his situation. Soreness, bruises, some splinters, but very little blood, exhausted.

Interesting.

Small wonder he'd thought he was a student again; aside from the two moons before this under the Wolfsbane's influence, he hadn't gotten off so easily after a full moon since… Bitter anger flooded him and he shoved it away, continuing his assessment. He felt better than he normally did after a transformation, but he was in no shape to take anyone on, even a half-starved Azkaban escapee. He resisted the urge to snort; it wasn't difficult; he didn't feel much like laughing at the moment. His wand was locked in the cupboard with his clothes on the far side of the room, where the wolf couldn't get to them, and now neither could he.

So Sirius was crazy.

Good, he reasoned furiously, he could use that. His conscience told him it was not an honourable thing to do, but cold logic overruled; if he didn't get to his wand, he could very well die within the hour. He hadn't cared much before, but now he had Harry to look out for, he couldn't go getting himself killed. No strength, no wand - he needed more information and an excuse to break the stalemate. Holding the bitterness from his voice by an act of will, he took a deep breath.

* * *

Sirius stopped murmuring and almost sighed in relief at being able to drop the farce. He could feel Remus inhaling, preparing to speak.

"Padfoot, what are you doing?" His voice wasn't bitter or angry, merely curious, as if Sirius hadn't been there for him mornings after the full moon since he'd found out his terrible secret… when he could. He wondered at the lack of anger in his tone and fumbled for an answer like a child caught doing something extremely foolish.

"I… had to talk to you." He managed at last, sounding sheepish, the words rasping in his throat. Silence as Remus pondered this. _Oh_ please _don't let him think I'm here to hurt him_, he begged. _Of course he does_, he answered himself. _What else is he supposed to think?_

"All right," Remus said calmly, "but I can't see you." He'd expected the distrust, but it still hurt, and his emotions were not as stable as they'd been twelve years ago. This was _Remus_ though, and if anyone understood, he would - eventually. Or not. He hoped he would, for all their sakes.

Sirius let go of Remus and watched the other man slowly sit up, not bothering to hide his soreness. He'd given up on such things a very long time ago when they were still in school, and he wasn't one to go back, even if he hated him now. Sirius knew he was sore, was always sore the morning after: what would be the point? Pride, maybe, but Remus had never put too much stock in that, nor in bitterness. Sirius, however, did see the furious colour rising in his face and felt embarrassment for his friend.

Padfoot, you can be a real git sometimes, you know? He's not gone to get his things because he thinks you won't let him, never mind he's in no shape to be moving. Still berating himself, he rose to walk to the cupboard and retrieve them, his steps raising small puffs of dust across the wooden floor. He's not Snivellus; he's not going to hit you in the back. His wand. He'll have put his wand in the cupboard, he mused. Isn't this awkward. I can't give him his wand before I tell him what I've come to, and I can't not. If I don't give him his wand, he's got no reason to listen to me or believe me, if I do, he doesn't have to listen to me, he could kill me.

Sirius was experiencing a vague sense of déjà vu. In second year he'd had to convince Remus that he didn't hate him for his lycanthropy and wasn't going to do horrible things to him because he knew. This time, it wasn't Remus' secret, school career, friendships and possibly his life at stake; it was his own life, Harry's, and Merlin knew how many others. If he failed, Peter would still be loose and would get Harry. Harry was not only his godson, though that was most important to him, he was also the hope of the wizarding world. He'd only been out of Azkaban for a few months, but he'd been able to figure out that much just from stolen newspapers and conversations eavesdropped on in dog form.

The hinges squeaked loudly over the wind when he opened the cupboard, and he pulled out the items, still debating with himself. A frown creased his face as he picked them up, noting the patches and frayed edges on the neatly folded garments. Turning back with them in hand, he saw Remus hadn't moved from where he sat but was watching him with a wariness that distressed him, although this too he had expected. He reined in the distress; he'd made far too many decisions based on his feelings, and he wasn't too happy with where they'd gotten him.

Crouching next to Remus, he silently offered him the clothing, keeping the wand and averting his gaze while his friend dressed. When the soft rustle of worn fabric stopped, he turned back and met the slightly puzzled expression with an intense one of his own.

"I need you to listen to me," he said, still holding the wand. He would extract no promises, could not. Remus looked up at him, his eyes glittering with suppressed anger. He'd held the wand well away; Moony could be very fast, especially around the full moon, even tired as he was. Now he pressed the polished wooden hilt into Remus' palm and sat back on his bare feet, waiting to see what his old friend would do.

Moody had taught them both, James and Sirius as aurors-in-training and Remus also, because to train one Marauder was to train another, werewolf or not. The mangled Slytherin had stumped and growled about the Ministry's prejudiced regulations, but in the end was unable to change any of them. The Ministry had spurned a great ally when it rejected Moony and alienated two of its brightest in the process. They hadn't quit, no - they were Gryffindor, they didn't quit! But they became estranged.

Working for the Order with Peter in their off time, they made a seamless team until the day someone spread the rumour of an intelligence leak. Fingers pointed, confidences were held close, and communication between the Order and the Ministry dried and shrivelled to nothing but mistrust and at times almost outright hostility. Therefore, when Sirius was found in the middle of a busy street laughing his head off, surrounded by dead and injured Muggles, Bartemius Crouch hadn't looked further but put him away without a trial faster than owls could fly.

Sirius knew Remus would feel honour-bound not to hex him, at least not right away, but he could see their mentor's words running behind his guarded expression. _"Honour is a_ liability _when fighting Death Eaters; it will only get you and your charges killed. You've brains, boys! Use them."_

They were both exhausted, Remus more than he, but Sirius was a close second; he hadn't been eating a great deal, even since his escape, and being on the run meant safe places to sleep weren't easy to find. Remus' fingers curled around the wand, and he favoured Sirius with a sceptical look before settling that hand in his lap. The anger had deflated a little, changing to wary caution, but Sirius sensed he'd relaxed, just a fraction. He allowed himself to also, rocking back off his heels to sit across from him on the hard floor.

He had never planned things in this manner before, not with the meticulousness born of having absolutely nothing else to do. Some of the factors were new, like the where and how and the article. He'd had a lot of time to think about this conversation, he'd just never thought he'd get the opportunity. He knew he was rash, had been cautioned against it by Moody and others over and over again. He knew he could easily lose his head and ruin the whole thing. This was too important. He stared at his hands in his lap, his position unconsciously mirroring Remus' and then forced himself to look up, meeting the suspicious gaze. Even when furious with him, Remus had an effect on him that made him just a bit more rational, which was a good thing; because he needed all the rationality he could get right now.

"I'm so afraid I won't be able to finish once I start." He wanted to close his eyes so that he could steady his voice, but he couldn't; he needed Remus to believe him. "I was not the secret keeper." The immediate derisive response wasn't the one he was hoping for.

"You expect me to _believe_ that?" Remus asked scathingly, crossing his arms over his chest. Sirius flinched as the wand moved with his hand, then relaxed again when it resettled, watching Remus' brow furrow into a hard stare. When had Moony become so cynical? Of course - he winced and bowed his head: when James and Lily died.

"No," he whispered, "but I had to tell you." The silence produced by one person was the thickest he'd ever felt, contrasting sharply with the noise of the storm. He reached inside his robe, slowly, so as not to startle Remus and pulled out the precious newspaper article that had motivated him to attempt escape, something no one else had ever succeeded in, and handed it over. Remus hesitated before taking it, as if he didn't want to hear anything more, but unfolded his arms and accepted the clipping, scanning the text before looking up.

"What about the Weasleys?" he asked coldly, with a hint of dread only Sirius could have heard.

Sirius tilted the parchment up and pointed to the picture, to the rat with the mangled paw on the boy's shoulder. Remus' hands, normally so controlled, began to shake, and Sirius saw him glance up at the date in the corner of the unyellowed parchment, just to be sure. He could almost hear the cogs spinning in his friend's head; saw the hint of horror dawning in his eyes. Some would say that all rats looked alike, but never the Marauders.

"Peter was the secret keeper, Remus. We switched." He grimaced. "I did try to kill him, but I failed. He cut off that finger and killed all those Muggles himself."

Remus buried his face in his hands; the wand clattered to the floor and rolled, neither of them following its progress. Sirius reached out hesitantly to touch his shoulder; as if afraid he'd be hexed on contact. Remus shuddered at the touch, but didn't pull away or dive for his wand. Instead he looked up and tried unsuccessfully to smile, his expression heartsick.

"You thought I was the spy, didn't you?" he asked, "That's why you didn't tell me."

"Yes," Sirius replied, twelve years of regret and shame written on his features. "I've wanted so long to tell you how sorry I am. It's my fault Lily and James are gone, I persuaded them to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me... I'm to blame, I know it..." His eyes had become unfocused and guilt-ridden, Remus cut him off.

"No." Sirius looked at him in surprise; gentle Moony had never cut people off and it was enough to shock him into listening. "Peter, not you, betrayed James and Lily." He continued fiercely, even though he was still getting used to the idea himself, "It was a mistake to trust him, yes, but that doesn't make you responsible any more than me." His nauseated expression warred with quiet joy on his face and lost. "Padfoot," the nickname struck a chord in him upon hearing it, "I thought I'd lost both you _and_ Peter." Remus swallowed and said almost in a whisper, "I was so angry, and now I find I've got one of you back. You were dead, as far as I was concerned, and then you had the absolute nerve to break out of Azkaban." His voice was shaking now. "I should have been so happy."

Sirius hadn't thought about it that way, he hadn't been able to even consider it since arriving on Azkaban. Oh, he'd had inklings of it, in bouts of fury against Peter's image in his head, but to hear it from Remus, put so simply and with such conviction… it was overwhelming in the very least.

A moment later Sirius found himself being drawn into a crushing hug and held. Flooded with relief so sweet that it hurt, something inside him was singing and he couldn't make out the words, but he didn't care because at one time he had known them all by heart. It was almost unrecognizable; over the years he'd completely forgotten what it sounded like - the memory had been stolen from him but was now being replaced. It was rushing in until he felt fit to burst and it overflowed, tracing tracks down his cheeks and shaking him to his very core.

* * *

Sirius ran skeletal hands over scarred wood and fidgeted. "Who will believe us?" he asked. Remus looked at him in question and he grimaced. "Nobody knows Peter is an animagus except you and me." Remus closed his eyes briefly; Sirius snorted and made a face. "We guarded our secrets too carefully, Moony."

They had moved to an upstairs room with a big four-poster bed where Remus usually slept off the exhaustion of the Change. The door to this room he kept closed so the wolf didn't destroy it, but it hadn't worked every time; there were some score-marks on the walls and furniture, but not so many as the shambles downstairs. Now he was curled up on the dusty counterpane, Sirius sitting on the edge watching him.

Remus thought for a minute and then replied slowly, "What do you bet Dumbledore guessed?" he asked. "You three showing up at the infirmary every morning after the full moons, and then suddenly in fifth year I start getting off with less injuries." He grinned, exposing razor-sharp pointed canines he never let anyone else see. "And don't forget all the pranks we played using those new talents. Some weren't quite as discreet as we thought they were."

"But if he knew, why didn't he tell the aurors?" Sirius asked, puzzled. Remus shrugged,

"No idea. Who knows how Dumbledore's mind works? He's never been one to put all his cards on the table." Sirius gave him a sharp look.

"Why didn't you tell?" he asked. Remus picked at some dust balls, rolling them between his fingers while he considered the question.

"Nothing noble, Padfoot. Sheer cowardice in fact." He made a face, self-disgust flashing across his features. "Dumbledore admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while we were at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me… and his trust has meant everything to me."

"Oh." Sirius muttered, looking strangely disappointed.

"Hey!" Remus responded indignantly, but it was ruined by a yawn. Then - "Oh," he said, his eyes widening.

Sirius smiled softly and said, "When I was in Azkaban, Padfoot was all that kept me from going mad. If anyone had known, they would have kept me from Changing."

Remus had been aware of this possibility, somewhere in the back of his head, but had refused to acknowledge it until now. James and Sirius had made necessary trips to Azkaban as Aurors, and the stories they'd brought back had been chilling in the very least. Twelve years ago Remus hadn't been able to even consciously consider giving his former friend over to the Dementors' full reach, no matter what he was supposed to have done.

But his eyelids were falling closed and much as he wanted to continue the long-overdue conversation, he found he couldn't stay awake. The emotional upheaval coupled with the Change had left him more tired than he'd been in a very long time. He felt safe, oddly enough. This in the presence of someone whom an hour ago he'd thought was set on killing him!

"Merlin," he mumbled, trying to stifle a yawn, "Snape's going to butcher my classes."

"Snape?" Sirius asked, surprised.

"Mm-hm. Wish I could've… just cancelled them for today." Sleep caught up with him then, and Sirius had to puzzle over the implications of the words on his own. Eventually he gave up and took the other side of the bed, hoping he'd be able to sleep.

* * *

It was late afternoon when Remus woke, muscles stiff and aching in every joint. Sirius was pacing across the floor at the far end of the room. He pulled on his fingers and made odd gestures, muttering to himself, his eyes focused elsewhere. For a moment he felt a flash of fear before memory returned, bringing with it a sense of disorientation. He'd almost expected Sirius to go haring off while he was asleep. He most certainly would have when they were in school. But he wasn't the same boy he'd known in school; that was made more apparent with every agitated step his friend took. Five to one wall, five back to the other. There was more space on either end, but Sirius seemed to be stuck in a pattern. Trying not to groan as his body protested, Remus rolled to his feet and intercepted him, grabbing his upper arms and holding him still. Sirius stumbled to a sudden stop, then stiffened in his grip, his eyes growing huge in his skull and rolling a little before his gaze returned from 'elsewhere,' fastening on Remus' face, which was slightly grey.

"Moony?" he asked, uncertain. Remus smiled shakily and released him. Sirius blinked, then wrapped his arms around his torso, shuddering.

"Stay with me, Padfoot." he implored. "We have a lot to do."

Sirius nodded, but said with a small smile, "I've got through the worst part already, Moony."

"We've got to figure out how to get you into the castle."

"Oh, that's easy." He grinned, heading for the door. "I just walk in."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Walk… in?"

"Mm-hm. As a dog. The portraits looked at me a little funny, but they didn't run screaming 'Sirius Black!' and give me away."

Oh.

Remus blanched.

"What?" Sirius asked from the landing. Remus hadn't moved. He turned around and saw his friend still standing in the room, looking sheepish. "Remus?"

"I… I'm a fool, Sirius."

"Why?"

"I just… I assumed you used dark arts you learned from Voldemort to get into the castle." There was silence for a minute, then,

"Oh." He seemed to ponder this, then said, "Well, I wasn't." And turned toward the stairs. This time Remus slowly followed him down, avoiding the spot where the banister was smashed into splintery bits. They were almost to the trap door when he stopped and said,

"We can't now, its still daylight." Sirius snorted.

"No-one watches during the day, Moony. If they see you coming in with a strange dog at night, however, they will certainly be suspicious.

"They'll be suspicious if they see me with a strange dog during the day, Padfoot."

"They won't see us; we can use the passage we found seventh year."

"We'd still have to get across the grounds, and the passage doesn't go into Dumbledore's office. What if Snape found us? He will certainly remember being haunted by that Grim in sixth year."

Sirius stopped in the act of pulling up the trapdoor. "That's right; you said he was 'going to butcher your classes.' What did that mean?"

"He's here, Sirius," Remus said heavily. "He's teaching here as well."


	2. Part II

**Changes, Part 2**

They argued and plotted as they walked down the long tunnel, Sirius' voice tinged with nervousness, Remus' with the same. At last dim light became visible and they stopped directly under the Willow. The storm had ceased, but the sun would set soon. Remus took a deep breath, studying his friend's emaciated features in the dark, cast in harsh relief by the few spears of daylight lancing into the tunnel.

"Ready?" he asked. Sirius nodded, his eyes big in his skull. Remus pulled his wand and used it to conjure a length of cord. Sheathing it again, he looked at Sirius uncertainly, then embraced him before turning him by his shoulders. Deft fingers trailed down his arms to catch his wrists and bind them together behind him. The cord was smooth in his hands and Sirius' wrists only bone and a rapid pulse covered with skin as he wound it around them, tucking the theatre-style release knot out of sight. Guiding Sirius' fingers, he showed him the hidden loop and made sure it could be reached if something went wrong. Had he not been in contact with Sirius' skin the entire time, he might have missed the slight trembling of his muscles and the way his breathing seemed a bit too controlled. Finished, he squeezed Sirius' shoulder.

"You all right?" he asked. Awkwardly, Sirius turned to face him. In the spackled light filtering through the willow's roots, Remus could see him swallow and nod, his eyes now showing the whites all the way around.

"Just a bit scared." He replied tightly. Remus embraced him again, gently stroking the back of his head until he relaxed and rested it on his shoulder, his breathing gradually becoming less laboured.

"Bad memories?" He asked, now stroking Sirius' temple with his thumb, feeling the other's lungs hitch at the words.

"Yeah."

"You're going to make me look very, very, bad, you know." He commented, forcing a chuckle out of his friend. "Like a complete and utter arse." The chuckle became a shaky laugh and he feigned affectionate indignation.

"Remus." Sirius' suddenly sober voice jolted him out of his play-acting. Sirius had raised his head and was looking at him with that slightly sad look that he was coming to realize was a permanent part of him now.

"Yes?" he asked, equally sober, cradling his friend's face in his palms. Sirius closed his eyes briefly, then opened them to lock with his.

"I know… I know that we will encounter things during this act which will require you to behave… differently towards me." Remus grimaced and bowed his head. Sirius met his forehead with his own and pushed it up again. "I want you to know now that I forgive you anything that might occur." Feeling shocks run through him, Remus' hands fell to his sides and he opened his mouth to deny that he would ever… but Sirius shook his head, sunken eyes intense and bright in the dark. "I want to get this done, Remus. No matter the cost."

Now it was Remus' turn to swallow and nod, whispering, "All right," in consent. "No matter the cost." He repeated, and snorted. "That's the reason the Blacks kept getting put in Slytherin, you know." Sirius raised an eyebrow at him and Remus shook his head. "Not because you were all evil, but because you were ruthless. And the best of you," he said, smiling and tugging on a tangled lock of Sirius' hair, "got put in Gryffindor. Because sometimes," here he glanced towards the entrance, "it takes great courage to be ruthless."

Sirius silently placed his cheek against Remus' own for a moment, then used it to push him towards the entrance, prodding with his forehead. Remus took a deep breath and drew his wand, winding his fingers in hair he'd been caressing only a few minutes before, his grip tightening in the matted strands as they neared the surface.

* * *

They encountered trouble almost immediately. The weather was rotten and classes were over for the day, so there were no students about, but Dementors patrolled the borders of the Forbidden Forest and sensed them as soon as they emerged from the tunnel. They were halfway to the castle when Sirius cried out and stumbled, fear making his eyes roll. Nothing for it. Remus threw him to the sodden ground and turned to face the things, pointing his wand at them. "No closer!" he shouted. They couldn't see, but the rush of extra fear from Sirius at the rough treatment must have convinced them of something, for they stopped.

He could hear him in the mud and grass in front of him, sobbing "No, no, no…"

The dementor in the lead spoke, its voice hoarse to match its death-rattle breath. "You… Dark." Remus felt a shiver pass down his spine at the words. They could be talked to. What's more, because he was a werewolf - they assumed he would parley with them. The dementor lifted a scabbed finger and pointed to Sirius, who lay on his side, knees drawn up to his chest. "Give… promised… ours." Remus stiffened at the words. He knew Fudge had authorized the Kiss if Sirius should be found, 'regardless of circumstance,' but he'd be damned if he'd abide by that decree. Keeping his wand steadily pointed at the group, he said firmly,

"No." If dementors could show surprise or anger, he was certain they would have. "Dumbledore wishes to speak with him." _Even if he doesn't know it yet,_ Remus amended in his mind. Dumbledore's name gave the things pause, but not enough. He hadn't wanted to use the spell because it would attract attention, but they were moving forward, challenging him. He raised his wand at the advancing dementors and drew on his memories, shouting "_Expecto patronum!"_

Most of his happy memories included Sirius, and he'd had trouble with this spell since that fateful Halloween - the few times he'd actually had to use it, because the memories were marred with the bitterness of betrayal. He'd had to scrape the bottom of his mental barrel for something he could use, but now he found he didn't have to.

A burst of white silver rushed from his wand and formed itself into a huge dog which leaped over Sirius and charged, snarling at the dementors. They fell away, leaving him alone and the dog circled back, stopping to nuzzle Sirius' face before returning to Remus, who stared at it in bewilderment until it dissolved away. Patroni never approached anyone except their casters, but for the one they approached in benevolence, the effect was almost as good as chocolate. Sirius' cries had ceased, but he was still shaking.

Remus wanted more than anything to try to comfort him, but the spell and the dementors had surely attracted attention, and if they weren't before, people would certainly be watching now. He couldn't afford to do anything which had the remotest chance of being construed as sympathetic. Instead he reached down and grabbed Sirius' upper arm, hauling him to his feet one-handed and giving him a shove towards the great wooden doors.

Dumbledore stood in the doorway, his gaze fixed on his former students. "Remus, what…?"

"Bastard paid me a visit," he seethed, jerking his head towards the Shrieking Shack, "in Hogsmeade."

This was the final test, fooling Albus Dumbledore. Many would have said it was impossible. In order to even come close, he first had to convince both himself and Sirius of the matter. The headmaster was an accomplished Legilimens, and while he would not invade their minds, he'd been reading people more than a century before either of them had been born. Anger Remus could do; anger was something he had in abundance at the moment - he simply had to redirect it.

The wolf in him was still dangerously close to the surface this day after the full moon. It battered at his skull and demanded to be let loose. It was hard, oh so hard to keep it in check even when the moon was new, but today Sirius had asked him to do whatever he found necessary.

No matter the cost.

So he slammed his oldest friend face-first up against one of the hardwood doors, and yanked his head back by the hair. He stared coldly into Sirius' eyes, which were widened in real fear, and made his own snap with anger. Blood was welling in a fresh cut on his cheek where it'd hit the wood. "I wanted to ask him a few questions before handing him over to the dementors, Headmaster," he snarled, and viciously tightened his grip on Sirius' hair, causing him to cry out.

He had given the wolf free reign and it relished the freedom. To bystanders who didn't know better, it translated into sadism to rival Snape's, rather than mere bloodlust from the normally mild Defence teacher. But Albus _did_ know better, and he didn't have to go very far before he felt a gnarled hand grip his shoulder firmly and heard the headmaster say in a hard voice,

"That's enough, Remus."

Perfect.

Even in his play-acting, that tone wilted his fury and he quailed, reluctant to earn Dumbledore's disapproval. He sighed, trying to appear put-out. "May I suggest a more private venue, Sir?" he asked respectfully.

Dumbledore appeared to consider the request and nodded, gesturing for Remus to follow with Sirius, who drooped in his grip and kept his head bowed. As they walked, the headmaster pulled a small mirror from inside his robe and quietly spoke into it.

"Alastor Moody."

The glass swirled with fog and cleared, revealing their mentor's face and spinning blue eye. "Moody here," he growled. If Sirius heard his old mentor's greeting, he gave no indication of it.

"Alastor," Dumbledore's voice was grave, "I need you at Hogwarts. We've found Black."

"_Merlin,_" he sighed, "You know I'm no good for this, Albus. I'm too emotionally_ involved_." Their Mentor said the phrase as if it were a disease.

"I know," Dumbledore replied, glancing at Remus. "We all are."

"Albus, the man was my student!"

"And mine," he reminded him gently, lowering his voice, but Remus could still pick out the words. "Alastor…" the headmaster suddenly looked tired. "Remus found him." By this time they had reached the stone gargoyle and the statue moved aside at a word from Dumbledore.

"Oh." Moody sounded as though he'd been struck. "All right," he consented. "Let me in by the floo?"

"Alastor, one more thing." By this time they'd reached the top of the stairs.

"Yes, Albus?"

"I need Veritaserum and one of your recording talismans," he said grimly, pushing open the door. There was a pause. Then,

"Surely Professor Snape…" Dumbledore shook his head, gesturing for them to sit. Remus shoved Sirius down in a wingchair, mud and all. Then he collapsed in the one opposite, glaring at him. Sirius glared right back, trading evil look for evil look.

"I do not want to bring Severus into this, Alastor. For several reasons." Going to the mantle, he pressed his palm to its centre and muttered a few words. "The floo is ready, my friend." A moment later Moody was brushing soot from his robes while his magical eye inspected the occupants of the room through the back of his head. It lingered on Sirius, studying him, and Sirius broke his glaring match with Remus to stare at the man who'd been his Mentor in the Aurors. The two older men conversed in low tones by the hearth, both voices sounding unhappy.

"…I don't like this, Albus," Moody rumbled, handing him a small bottle and pendant.

"No more do I, Alastor. But…" he paused, blue eyes sweeping the room and pinning Remus where he sat. "I believe it may be necessary." Then, a touch lighter as if forced, "If only for our sanity."

Remus stood and crossed to where Sirius was slumped against the side of his chair. Reaching down, he grabbed his friend's chin in a bone-crushing grip, forcing it up. Giving him a cold look, he said in a low deadly voice,

"Don't worry about me, Headmaster. I lost mine twelve years ago." Maybe he had, he mused. No sane person addressed Dumbledore in that tone. He glanced up, seeing only concern on the old man's face. "May we begin?" he asked.

His teachers exchanged a glance, then Moody growled, "I'll do it," and took the vial back from Dumbledore. "You hold him, Lupin."

Remus knew there was no need to, but he kept up the act to the end, maintaining his grip on Sirius' jaw and pinching his nose until his mouth dropped open. Moody quickly dosed him and Remus pressed up, closing Sirius' mouth and forcing him to swallow. He held it closed with both hands as Sirius' stomach rebelled, trying to reject the poison. Remus held his gaze coldly, silently informing him that he would make him choke on his own bile should he, in fact, give in to his body's demands. Sirius' breath whistled through his nose in short, fast bursts, his face white under the grime and mud. When he was sure Sirius could keep the serum down, he let go and stepped back, waiting.

Sirius' head fell forward onto his chest, his mouth open and gasping, the vertebrae in his spine jutting out in harsh relief. Beside him, Moody cursed and turned away, going to stand with Dumbledore, who muttered an incantation over the talisman.

When Sirius finally raised his head, his eyes were glazed. At last Remus moved forward and knelt in front of him, reaching up to cup his abused face with gentle hands, steadying him. He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, but it was such an absolutely unthreatening gesture (save for its significance) that neither man moved to stop him, the silence in the room heavy and thick.

"Padfoot," he whispered, stroking his temples with his thumbs. Sirius blinked slowly; Moody had given him a light dose to start. Behind him, the auror shifted restlessly, his prosthetic grinding into the floor. He raised his voice to be heard clearly.

"What is your full name?" he asked formally for the talisman's benefit. It was standard Ministry procedure, exactly as Moody himself had taught him. He remembered it flawlessly - no one could fault him for that. Aurors followed a strict pattern and set of rules in questioning because the Truth Serum caused seizures if it was fought or could not produce an answer. This was why they were careful to only ask questions that could be answered.

"Sirius Orion Black." He answered immediately, then firmly, "Padfoot." Remus fought a smile. It was true, if optional. He'd become 'Padfoot' in their fifth year, and had stayed so for the rest of his life. The name was as much a part of him as that which he'd been given at birth.

"What is your birth date?"

"March thirteenth, nineteen sixty." Remus hated the next part, but had to say it. He slowly moved his hands down to Sirius' shoulders, his thumbs continuing their soothing motion on the shrunken muscles there.

"Sirius Orion Black, you are under the influence of Veritaserum and therefore compelled to speak against your will. Anything you say can and will be used either against or for you in a court of law. Do you in good faith consent to hear questioning?" It was a mere formality, normally, but useful for record-keeping. No one would actually stop if refused, and the answer was usually a resounding, 'No!' But he doubted any interrogator had ever said it while on their knees before a prisoner. Sirius' expression was still glazed, but there was something warm in it when he said,

"I do."

"Sirius, were you Secret keeper for James and Lily Potter?"

"No." Behind him, Moody shifted again and lost his balance, his wooden leg slipping on the stone. Dumbledore steadied him and guided him to a chair near Remus, then sat wearily behind his desk, staring into space. The silence in the room had gone from heavy to stunned. The two were closer now, and he only had to turn a little to see their bewildered faces.

"Who was, Sirius?" he asked calmly, reaching around his friend to pull on the loop at his wrists, drawing his hands forward and massaging them. Sirius hissed when he felt the blood return. Neither professor nor auror protested Remus' actions.

"Peter." It was eerie, hearing that name from Sirius' lips without reflecting the muted anger that played across his face. Moody buried his grizzled head in his hands.

"Did you kill Peter Pettigrew?" It was difficult keeping the venom out of his own voice when he said the name.

"No." Moody's head snapped up, both eyes, magical and natural staring at his former student. The auror asked his next question for him, his voice strangled, as if he were afraid to hear the answer.

"Is he alive?"

"Yes," Sirius replied. The beginnings of fear washed over their Mentor's face and he leaned forward, asking urgently,

"Do you know where he is?"

"With Ron Weasley in Gryffindor Tower." This made no sense to Moody, and if it hadn't been for the Truth Serum and the monotone, Remus was sure Moody would have thought Sirius was pulling his leg. He decided it was time to intervene.

"I think you'd better show them the article, Padfoot." Sirius nodded and produced the clipping, holding it out in one claw-like hand. His mouth moved awkwardly to form words without the Serum's prompting.

"Peter is… the rat." Moody looked up from the picture, his brow furrowing into deep creases. Sirius tried again.

"He is… animagus."

"Pettigrew, an animagus?" he asked incredulously even though years of experience with Veritaserum testified to the truth of it. Sirius seemed to come to a decision.

"Yes. Like me… like Prongs," he said with difficulty. Moody didn't have to ask who 'Prongs,' was, he'd trained him also. Then he looked up.

"You called him 'Wormtail,'" he said sharply, understanding dawning on his face. Sirius nodded.

"Yes."

Moody stood abruptly, his hand resting lightly on Remus' shoulder for support while he got his balance. Sirius watched him warily as their Mentor pulled out another potion, this one as dark and cloudy as the other had been clear. Unbelieving relief showed on his face when it was pressed into his hands, and he simply held it for a moment before they began to shake.

"Just one more thing, Alastor," Remus said, gently taking the glass vial from him before he could drop it and setting it on the floor for the moment. Sirius gave him a questioning look as he wrapped his fingers around his friend's. With his own gaze he captured Sirius' and asked,

"Padfoot, was James' death your fault?"

Sirius' eyes grew wide and he tensed, his throat working. Remus could feel his hands try to curl into fists and his muscles begin to jump. He'd known this was dangerous, as well as foul play, but he felt it had to be done. Sirius had blamed himself for too long. He abandoned the effort to control the clenching hands and grabbed his elbows, pinning his forearms with his own as he began to thrash. His mouth was moving, trying to force out the 'yes' he wholeheartedly believed to be true.

"Sirius," Remus said, "Let the potion answer, or you'll hurt yourself." Never mind that it was he who had asked the question. It could be answered, and the Serum would force him to, eventually.

Sirius' head rolled to face him, and after a moment he gasped, "No."

Gradually his muscles relaxed and he stared at his tight fists, drawing the fingers back one by one to reveal deep crescent marks in his palms. Blood welled in them from bent nails that badly needed trimming and mixed with the dirt, causing him to wince as it stung.

"Now do you believe me, Padfoot?" he asked softly, but Sirius heard him and didn't try to fight the potion this time.

"Yes." Remus smiled. He might catch hell from his friend for this later, but it was worth it.

"I think we can use that antidote now," he said, picking up the vial and uncorking it, giving it back and guiding him while he drank it. This one was far more benevolent and there was no gagging as it took effect. Rather, he looked like a man on his deathbed making a miraculous recovery as they watched.

While the potion worked, Remus Summoned clean washcloths from Dumbledore's loo and wet them with water from the teapot which always sat in pride of place on the headmaster's desk. Gently he cleaned the cut he had inflicted on the other Marauder's face and moved on to his hands, removing all traces of the blood. Then he got up stiffly, hearing his bones creak.

Moody had been holding a quiet conversation with Dumbledore while this happened. Once he had heard the Headmaster call out, "Come in!" and someone enter, then cross the room behind him, and now the group turned back to their former students. Remus moved to the chair he'd occupied earlier and sank into its depths, finally allowing the exhaustion he felt to line his features.

Now that the adrenaline rush was gone, his body was insisting (very persuasively) that he not move from that spot for A Very Long Time. But people had seen him bring Sirius into the castle, and he could only hope that the gossip sure to reach Peter also carried news of his treatment. A chill ran through him. If he thought Sirius was out of the way, then he might attempt… but no. He hadn't before, and he wouldn't with Moony around to recognize him - or he hoped he wouldn't.

* * *

In Gryffindor tower, two house elves entered the third-year boys' dorm, talking animatedly. Wormtail rolled over on Ron's pillow and pricked his ears to listen. He'd found house elves were an excellent source of information. They chattered freely when no humans were about and made the business of those they served their own. While the students were at classes and meals, the elves' high, piping voices often filled the tower. Tonight was no different. One of the elves set his armful of wood by the fire and began to feed it, talking all the while.

"Abie heard Dobby say that Professor Remus Lupin captured Mr. Sirius Black." Wormtail shivered and sat up, listening intently now. The other elf frowned.

"Dobby says lots of bad things, Abie."

Abie shook his head. "Dobby likes Mr. Harry Potter, Grumby. Dobby wants him to be safe." The repetition of names was annoying, Peter sighed, but at least one always knew whom the elves were discussing.

Grumby gestured, and dust rose from furniture and floor to form a roiling ball over the elf's palm. He concentrated, and it drew in on itself until it disappeared with a soft "Pop!" when he snapped his fingers.

Abie continued, undeterred. "Dobby said Professor Remus Lupin was very mean to Mr. Sirius Black." Hope rose within Peter; perhaps he'd get through this year after all. It certainly didn't sound like Remus was going to listen to anything the other might say.

Grumby glanced toward the open door, through which footsteps from below could be heard. "Is Abie done? Grumby and Abie must go." Abie nodded and with a _pop!_ they were gone.

* * *

In the Great Hall, Minerva glanced once more at Albus' empty chair. Dinner was almost over and still he had not appeared. Nor had Lupin, for that matter. Whispers floated through the Hall, speculation formed between bent heads over pumpkin pastries, chattering and casting their own not-so-surreptitious glances towards the High Table. She was worried. Albus usually said when he was going to miss dinner. Had something happened? The rumourmongers seemed to think it had. Abruptly she folded her napkin and stood.

Swift steps carried her out of the hall to the headmaster's office where the gargoyle admitted her. As the stairs travelled upwards she thought she could hear voices above her on the other side of the door. When they slowed and came to a halt, she was able to hear enough to identify them. One was Albus', certainly, but the other possessed Alastor Moody's gravel tones. What on earth was he doing here? The possibilities filled her with dread.

As sometimes happened before she could raise her hand to knock, Dumbledore's voice bid her enter. She pushed open the heavy oak door and was met with a strange sight. Remus was kneeling in front of a man she recognized with a shock as Sirius Black, gently swabbing away fresh blood with a white cloth, murmuring soothing words when the other man flinched at the pressure on a purpling bruise.

Feeling bewildered, she sought out Albus' gaze with a raised eyebrow. He gave her a sad smile and beckoned her to join he and Moody by the hearth, where quietly he filled her in. Grieved, she watched Remus finish cleaning his friend's cuts and lay the richly-stained cloth on the floor. He stood slowly, like an old man, and then collapsed into a nearby chair.

Moody spoke gruffly, uncomfortable in the silence.

"Well, boys… it seems we've a rat to catch." Remus looked up wearily. The man was a Gryffindor, but he knew where his limits were and he'd never done so much the day after the full moon.

"I don't think I'm in any shape to go anywhere else tonight," he said. Minerva turned to Moody.

"I can go," she said. Alastor considered her thoughtfully. Only ten years his senior, she could have been an auror herself, had she cared to. She lacked nothing in the sheer magical power required for the career; she had that in spades. For this job, however, he couldn't have asked for better.

* * *

They spent a few minutes plotting - or arguing - depending on one's point of view, and then McGonagall left with Moody to track down Ronald Weasley.

Sirius didn't like staying behind, nor did he like it when his old Mentor called him a 'complication.' But stay he did, and a short time later, Moody and McGonagall returned. McGonagall had Changed and was carrying Wormtail by the scruff of his neck, an expression of impossible distaste on her feline features. Moody had his wand trained on the struggling rat, wary lest he Change.


	3. Part III

**Changes, Part 3**

Everything moved so fast that Remus' head spun. Within moments Dumbledore had the head of the D.M.L.E. and Cornelius Fudge into his office by the floo, within the hour Peter was in Ministry custody in a cell deep under its headquarters awaiting trial. The idea grated Sirius. Wormtail got a trial. But, as Remus pointed out, it indicated the Ministry was learning from its mistakes. Before he knew it, he and Sirius were installed in the Hospital wing and within a few hours, every single dementor was gone from Hogwarts and its surrounding areas.

Poppy Pomfrey was furious, Remus could tell. After so much time spent in her care over the years, her professional mask concealed little from him. He'd made a game of reading people when he was a child, but found it essential to his survival as he grew older. He'd watched for the slightest sign that anyone had guessed his secret or even harboured suspicions. Now he saw the too-blank look on her face, the slight pursing of her lips and the narrowing of her eyes at times, heard her quick steps across the infirmary floor, and heard her setting down instruments with rather more force than necessary.

She was pleased to find Remus relatively unscathed after his monthly ordeal, but her inspection of Sirius had left her muttering curses at the Ministry when she thought no one was listening. She wasn't entirely happy with him for his own treatment of Sirius either. He knew that she wasn't totally convinced of his friend's innocence, but had put aside her reservations in favour of staunch professionalism.

Sirius was horrifyingly thin. His shoulders when Remus embraced him felt like the skin was merely draped over his bones with nothing to hold it there or keep it from sliding off. His metabolism had long ago consumed every ounce of fat he'd ever possessed. Before they had been betrayed, he'd been quite sought-after, and cocky with it, but today his appearance would turn heads for quite a different reason.

Several potions and spells later, Poppy decreed they were finished for the evening. Remus could have gone back to his rooms, but he chose to stay.

Sirius wanted to meet his godson. Remus would have been all for the idea, but was interrupted by insistent yawns. He looked at the clock, unsurprised to find that it was past midnight, and pointed out that were the two to meet tonight, none of them would get any sleep. Gryffindor would be out a seeker, which would in turn make them very, very unpopular. Sirius reluctantly agreed, and they fell asleep before they could make any plans.

* * *

Morning came all too soon. Remus woke to the soft _scritch__, scritch_ of a comb being worked through resisting knots of hair. He opened his eyes to see Sirius sitting on his bed, attempting to drag a mangled comb through equally mangled hair.

It was storming outside again.

"You know," he said, making Sirius start and drop the comb. "It might be easier if you cut some of that off." Sirius' fingers tightened around the strands and he tensed.

"I'm not shaving my head, Moony." Remus sighed and got up, retrieving the comb from the floor, his hands clumsy with sleep. Taking over the task, he picked at a few of the knots before speaking, allowing his fogged brain some time to become functional.

"I didn't say cut all of it, Padfoot. Most of this," he tapped Sirius' back to indicate where, "is rather damaged. You'll break a lot of it getting these knots out, and that's where most of them are." It had been washed, and Sirius was wearing a clean robe. He must have borrowed someone's hair potions and gotten Pomfrey to spell his hair dry, for the top gleamed almost like it had twelve years ago. "Not all of the dirt came out," he teased, removing a rotting blade of grass and dangling it in front of Sirius pointedly. His friend reddened and snatched it with a glare, throwing it on the pile of hair beside him. Remus eyes crinkled, inviting him to laugh instead.

"All right," he muttered, smiling reluctantly. Remus squeezed his shoulder and walked to knock softly on Poppy's open door. She looked up from her desk, surprised.

"Poppy, might I borrow a pair of your scissors, please?" he asked.

"Of course, dear," the matron said, pointing. "Second drawer on the right."

"Thank you, Poppy."

* * *

True to his word, Remus began cutting no higher than the split ends he'd shown Sirius, but Sirius had gotten used to the idea of cutting his hair, and said glumly,

"If you're going to cut it, Remus, you might as well cut a lot."

Remus laid down the scissors and gathered Sirius' hair in his hands, finding the bulk of the knots with his fingers, the backs brushing against the lent robe.

"All right," he said. "Where?"

Sirius hesitated, then gestured with his hands. Behind him, Remus raised his eyebrows.

"That much?"

Sirius nodded.

"I don't want to look like the Wanted posters, Remus."

"All right," his friend agreed, taking up the scissors and beginning to cut again, this time much higher.

"I'm leaving some room to even it out later, once I'm through with these knots." Sirius started to turn around and Remus pushed him back.

"Hold still," he ordered. Sirius squirmed impatiently and asked,

"You know how?"

"Know how to what?"

"Even it out."

"Can't make too big of a mess of it. I've been cutting my own for years, Padfoot." There was a pause as Remus laid the cut hair on the discard pile. "And I daresay it's a bit harder to cut what I can't see." Sirius was silent, mulling over the implications of this.

Hair was a tricky thing to use magic on. For most people, it was simply safer to do things the Muggle way. But to take a pair of scissors to one's own hair… the part of him that was very, very vain shuddered at the idea. He wondered why Remus would find it necessary to learn a skill like that… and then he mentally cursed himself. He'd seen the signs; the too-thin, frayed and patched garments from the locked cupboard, and the relative ease with which he'd pulled up his dazed friend yesterday morning.

Even with more than half the hair lopped off and quite a few detangling charms, it still took more than an hour before he could pass the comb through it without hitting snarls. When Remus had cut it, he'd cut _through_ many of the knots, causing them to come undone and making the task much easier. It was an incredible thing, to feel his hair smooth under his hands again, to be able to run his fingers through it.

He left to wash out the rest of the dirt and returned shortly, dripping and grinning. Remus shook his head,

"Doesn't take much to make you happy, does it?"

"Never did, Moony," he said, settling once more on the low hospital bed. Sirius picked up the comb again and parted his hair, combing out the now blessedly knot-free length, delighting in the comforting smell of soap and clean hair and the soothing task. He got it straightened out and Remus took over. Soon the crisp _snip, snip_ sound of sharp scissors through wet strands filled the room. When he was done cutting, he offered him his wand and asked,

"Do you want to dry it, or shall I?"

He badly wanted to use magic again, but said "You'd better. I don't think I should try that charm with someone else's wand. I might fry all your hard work." The charm Pomfrey had used earlier had been a simple multipurpose drying charm, but the one Remus used now was much more complex.

Soon he was done, and Sirius gathered up the discarded hair and went to dispose of it in the fire. Remus stopped him before he could throw it in.

"Sirius, no!"

"What?"

"Poppy would kill you if you did that."

"Why?" he asked, puzzled.

"Do you remember what burning hair smells like, Padfoot?"

What? Oh. He turned a little green at the thought. Davey Gudgeon, the same boy who'd nearly lost an eye to the Whomping Willow, had caught his own hair on fire one day in Potions class. Davey had been completely bald for a week, and his eyebrows had taken even longer to grow back. But the smell… that was something he'd thought he'd never forget. Apparently he'd been wrong.

Remus was grinning, amused at his mistake. Sirius scowled and threw the hair in the bin instead.

* * *

Breakfast was a casual affair at Hogwarts. Students filed in anytime after dawn and left just before classes started. The entrance of the worn-looking stranger with Professors Lupin and Dumbledore caused a bit of a stir, but none of the students recognized him and their attention returned to the quidditch match for the day. The stranger, however, often stole odd glances in Harry Potter's direction. When Professor Snape appeared at the side door, it was apparent that he _did_ recognize him, for he rushed to the headmaster's side and hissed in his ear. Dumbledore shook his head and stood, waiting until he had the hall's attention. Professor Snape stepped back, looking murderous.

"For twelve years, the wizarding world has believed Sirius Black a follower of Voldemort." Gasps rose throughout the hall at hearing the dark lord's name spoken so boldly. A few of the first-year Muggleborn students looked puzzled at the shock displayed by their peers.

"He was believed to be the murderer of one Peter Pettigrew. Last night Mr. Pettigrew was found hiding in Gryffindor tower as a rat." A murmur ran through the hall and a few heads turned in the stranger's direction, studying him and turning to whisper to others, who in turn stared.

"Mr. Pettigrew confessed to the crimes for which Mr. Black was thrown into Azkaban twelve years ago." Many of the staff and students now wore expressions of dawning horror, others of dismay. Professor Snape turned on his heel and strode from the hall, his robes whipping around him, nearly knocking over tiny Professor Flitwick in the doorway. From the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter was studying the stranger intently, an odd mixture of relief and confusion on his young face.

"Most of you were very small children when these events occurred, but they affect us today. We have with us this morning a most honoured guest." Dumbledore gestured for the stranger to stand. The man glanced warily around the Hall as he slid back his chair and got to his feet, thick black hair falling about his bony shoulders.

"I would like to introduce to you Mr. Sirius Black." The murmur swelled to a roar.

* * *

Sitting beside Sirius, Remus was inwardly smirking. Last night's confrontation with Fudge had been precarious. Even when presented with the evidence, the minister had hesitated, hemmed and hawed over making things official. Remus was certain the man was concerned only for his own career and wanted to be sure the move would reflect positively on himself. It had taken all of Dumbledore's considerable skill to subtly persuade him that it would. Introducing Sirius this morning had to be one of the headmaster's more brilliant ideas, he mused.

Sirius sat down again and Dumbledore continued his speech, something about the day's quidditch match. When he finished, Remus grinned at Sirius and said,

"That ought to keep Fudge from backing out."

"Moony…" Sirius began, his voice troubled. "Harry is staring at me." Remus glanced at the boy and grimaced.

"I don't blame him. He thought you were out to kill him."

"What?! Why?" Remus hesitated before responding.

"Apparently he overheard Arthur Weasley say you'd been talking in your sleep in Azkaban, saying things like, 'he's at Hogwarts.' We _all_ thought you'd go after Harry, Padfoot."

"Oh." Sirius' shoulders drooped.

"I don't think he knows anything about the Fidelius Charm." Sirius gaped at him.

"Anything at all? How could he not?" Remus squirmed under his bewildered gaze. "How much does he know, Moony?"

"I'm not sure," he replied. "Precious little about his parents. Dumbledore hasn't told him much, I don't believe the Dursleys have told him anything. He had no idea who I was, and…" He stopped and gave Sirius a pleading look. "I'm his _professor_, Padfoot. I can't exactly have a heart-to-heart chat with the boy, and really…" he passed a hand over his eyes. "Maybe I'm just a coward, Sirius, but somehow I didn't feel it was my place."

Sirius sighed in frustration. "For once I couldn't care less about quidditch, Remus. I want to meet my godson." Remus shook his head, smiling bemusedly.

"Distract that boy from his game, Sirius, and Wood will have your head on a pike." Sirius looked puzzled.

"Who's Wood?" he asked.

"Gryffindor's captain. Mad for quidditch, that one. Nah, we'll let Harry play his game, and then we turn his world upside down." Sirius frowned, and Remus shoved him.

"No sulking."

"I wasn't…"

"Sure you weren't." The students were filtering out, heading for the pitch. "Com'on, we've got a game to watch." Sirius' eyes lit up, and suddenly he was as excited as any of the first-years.

"Moony, have you seen him fly?" he asked, towing Remus out of the hall, peppering him with questions. "Is he good? Does he fly like James?" The barrage of queries left no gaps, and Remus had to wait until he'd run out of breath before he could answer.

"I haven't seen him fly much, Padfoot, but he seems to be quite the legend here. Do you know McGonagall made him seeker his first year?" Sirius stopped in his tracks and gave a whoop.

"I knew it!" he said, catching up to Remus, his pace not slowing a bit once he had, forcing Remus to rush in order to keep up.

They arrived at the faculty box early and found seats. It was pouring rain and a fierce wind drove it almost horizontal so that none but the very largest of umbrellas offered any protection from its assault. Remus gave up on his and put it away. Sirius didn't seem to notice. He jumped up almost as soon as they sat down and ran to the rail, pointing at things they could barely see for the rain and talking loudly through the storm. Remus couldn't hear half of it, but he sat and watched, a quiet joy filling his heart.

Slowly the box filled, and Remus dragged Sirius to his seat. The commentator was a cheeky boy with dreadlocks whom McGonagall scolded regularly throughout the game. He'd arrived early, and allowed Sirius to pick his brain for information regarding the teams.

At last the players flew out onto the field, circling the pitch in laborious laps. Madam Hooch released the quaffle and the game began.

Harry flew like one blind, the smallest player on the field. Halfway through, a time-out was called, and Hermione could be seen through the rain, jogging across the field. A few minutes later she left, making her way back to the stands and the teams pushed off. Harry's flying improved. One gruelling hour later, he caught the snitch and the teams touched down, straggling wearily to the locker rooms. Gryffindor had won the game, but both teams were too beat to care much for several hours.

* * *

McGonagall found Harry as he came inside with Ron and Hermione, his broom over one shoulder.

"Harry, you're to go to the Headmaster's office." The other two wore concerned expressions.

"Am I…"

"You're not in trouble, Harry. Now get on with you." Harry glanced at his friends, then turned to go, his posture disgruntled. McGonagall shook her head. "You two might as well go also." He'd probably need all the support he could get, and there was no point in leaving them out. The three got into more than their share of trouble, but they were good kids and she liked them. She watched them go, then turned her steps towards Gryffindor tower.

* * *

Sirius was pacing again.

Five steps forward, five steps back.

Nervous energy seemed to crackle through the animagus and every time he reached up to run his hands through his hair he would start in surprise at finding it clean and untangled. Then he would glance toward Remus as if to confirm that this truly was real, before beginning the whole cycle over again.

Five steps forward, five steps back.

Extra chairs had been set out in front of Dumbledore's desk, two more than Remus thought was needed. He'd given Dumbledore a questioning look, but had gotten no answer. The headmaster sat behind his desk, staring into space. Remus was seated in one of the chairs, watching his friend with sharp eyes.

Waiting.

The door opened.

Sirius stopped.

Harry stood on the threshold, looking uncertain and still carrying his broom. Behind him, Ron fidgeted and Hermione peered into the brightly-lit room in open curiosity. Her eyes lit upon Remus and studied him for a long moment before continuing around the room. He shifted uncomfortably. Why had her gaze burned into him so? It was as if she knew something he did not wish her to. That thought made his blood run cold.

Dumbledore's voice startled them all.

"Come in, come in. Please, sit down, all of you." A pointed glance at Sirius said he was most definitely included in the request. The old man insisted on tea and in a moment a platter of biscuits had appeared on his desk in easy reach.

Harry laid his broom by the door and moved to a seat, followed after a moment by Ron and Hermione. Sirius stood behind one of the chairs for a minute before circling it to sit on its edge as if afraid it would break. All three teenagers eyed him warily.

It had been decided that Remus would do most of the talking. Sirius had wanted to, but wasn't confident he could stay calm throughout the tale. So he sipped his tea and asked,

"Harry, what do you know about the events surrounding your parents' death?"

"I… not much, Professor. Hagrid said Voldemort killed them." Ron flinched at the name and Hermione gave the redhead a warning look. "Professor Dumbledore told me a little. He said my mum sacrificed herself for me, and that's why I've got this," he gestured to his scar, "and why Voldemort died instead of me." A frown creased his face. "Or whatever it was that happened to him. And that's why I've got to stay with my aunt and uncle," Harry said miserably, clutching his cup. "He said their blood protects me, because of what my mum did. That's about it, really." Remus sat back and rubbed the crease between his eyebrows that was starting to ache. Harry knew so little. It made his job both easier and harder.

Sirius looked unhappy at this confirmation of Harry's lack of knowledge, but didn't say anything. Instead he reached over and slowly removed Harry's tea before he could spill the hot liquid, setting it on a convenient table.

"Harry, twelve years ago we all made some rather grave mistakes. The man Professor Dumbledore mentioned this morning, Peter Pettigrew, betrayed your parents to Voldemort. Everyone thought Sirius had done it, including me." He didn't mention that Sirius had thought him a spy.

"There is a spell called the Fidelius charm which hides a secret, in this case your location, inside a living soul. Sirius was the most obvious choice. We were all good friends; Sirius, your dad, Peter and I, but Sirius and James were closest and everyone knew it. James even told Professor Dumbledore that he would have no one else as Secret Keeper."

Sirius took over, his voice unsteady, turning one of the biscuits over and over without eating it.

"But I was afraid, because I was the most obvious choice, that Voldemort would find me and get the Secret out of me. So I convinced James to switch to the least obvious choice: Peter. Just a few days later, your parents were killed." Sirius paused, and Remus knew he was seeing the burning house in his mind's eye.

"I'd gone to check on Peter, to make sure he was all right, but he wasn't there, and I knew something was wrong. I was so scared; he had said he would be there. So I went to Godric's Hollow, and I wasn't supposed to be able to see the house, but there it was, destroyed, and bits of it were on fire. Then Hagrid came and found you, and you were _alive_. I'd thought you were dead too and it never even occurred to me to tell him what had happened; I just gave him my motorbike and took off after Peter.

"When I found him, he yelled for the whole street to hear, 'James and Lily, Sirius! How could you?' I was… I don't know. I couldn't believe the nerve of the thing… and then he blew up the street and disappeared into the sewers as a rat." He closed his eyes against the memories. There was silence for a moment. Then,

"Stan said you laughed," a small voice intruded. Sirius looked at the boy.

"Who?"

"Stan Stunpike, the conductor on the Knight Bus. He said you laughed." Sirius sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"I did."

"Why?"

Sirius considered the question. "I don't think I was really sane from the moment I found Peter gone, maybe I'm not now. When I saw what he'd done, how he'd done it… Peter would never have come up with a plan like that in school, never. No one gave him much credit for brains. I cracked. I totally completely cracked and broke down in giggling hysterics like a woman." Hermione scowled and Sirius shrugged. "I didn't think it would really matter at the time. I thought I'd straighten it all out at the trial, but then one day I woke up in Azkaban and realized I wasn't getting one."

Remus looked at him. "You might as well tell them, Padfoot, you're going to have to register anyway, now that the Ministry knows." Sirius sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"All right," he agreed. "Harry, Peter wasn't the only animagus among us. He learned because James and I helped him to."

"My dad was an animagus too?" Harry asked eagerly. Sirius smiled and finally bit into the sweet he'd been mangling, talking with his mouth full.

"Yes."

"What was he?"

"A stag, Harry. _Mmph_, Lily thought it was adorable."

Remus started to laugh and turned it into a cough, saying something that sounded like, "Sirius is a dog."

Sirius glared at him in mock-offence and opened his mouth to retort, but Harry said, "That was you!"

"What?" Sirius turned to him in confusion. "What was me?"

"That night near the Dursley's. I saw you. You scared me."

Sirius swallowed and looked remorseful. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's okay," Harry said, picking up his tea again. "What about Professor Lupin?" he asked. Both men suddenly went very still. It was Hermione who spoke.

"Harry, Mr. Black said only he, Pettigrew and your father became animagi," she remonstrated, her tone patient.

"Oh," Harry muttered, abashed.

That wasn't what Sirius had said at all. Remus gave the Muggleborn witch a keen look, which she returned evenly.

"You knew my parents!" Harry said suddenly.

"Yes?" Sirius responded, his brow furrowing. Remus considered that they had been telling him this for quite a while now.

"Can you tell me about them?" he asked eagerly.

Oh.

"Of course, Harry," Sirius managed, looking truly frightened, yet relieved at the same time. Harry opened his mouth to speak and his stomach growled, despite the biscuits. Sirius laughed and said,

"But perhaps later. I'm starving too. What do you say we talk over lunch?" he asked, rising.

"Sure!" Both boys greeted his suggestion with enthusiasm. They moved to follow him out, but paused in the doorway to look back. Hermione was still seated across from Remus, apparently lost in thought.

"Hermione?" Ron asked.

"I'll be along in a minute, Ron," she said. He nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Dumbledore shifted behind his desk and fastened sharp eyes on her.

"Did you have a question, Miss Granger?" he asked. She glanced up at Remus.

"Professor Snape gave us an essay for homework this weekend, Sir," she said. Remus looked at her; saw the fisted hands and observed the way her right foot seemed to fidget.

"Really? What on?" he asked. She wasn't complaining about the work, not Hermione. No, this was something far different, and he had a sneaking suspicion he knew what it was.

"Werewolves, Sir," she said softly, staring at the floor. He glanced at Dumbledore, whose face had hardened. Remus was devoutly thankful he was not in Snape's shoes today.

"Ah. I see." He crossed his arms in what she was sure to recognize as a defensive posture, but he couldn't help it, he was nervous. "And did you learn anything interesting during your research?" he asked carefully.

"Yes, Sir," she whispered, then looked up, her expression confused, a rare thing for the young scholar. "But there's a lot of material the books don't agree on, so much that I can't tell what is real and what is superstition."

He raised his eyebrows. Even Hermione couldn't get through that mess? That was rather bad. But she was continuing, winding down from what was nearly a rant, sounding disconsolate.

"There are some constants, but there are almost no primary sources on the subject, and fewer that don't sound extremely biased."

Remus had to suppress a smile. It wouldn't do for her to think he was laughing at her.

"I just… I had an idea you might know a little more about the subject." There it was. Still safe territory, giving him the freedom to deny it if he wished, and maybe she wasn't quite sure, but it was that very courtesy which compelled him to cautiously reply,

"I might."

"I mean," she said, nervous, "I didn't want to ask you if you weren't comfortable talking about it…"

"It's all right, Hermione."

"It… is?" she asked uncertainly. He smiled and nodded.

"You're correct, actually. Hogwarts' library _is_ sadly lacking in that area." _Perhaps because someone removed the texts and neglected to replace them when I was a student here?_ "I wasn't going to cover werewolves until the end of the year, but since my esteemed colleague has seen fit to start my classes on them, I suppose I shall have to finish that chapter on Monday, if only to repair any… misconceptions that may have arisen from the material."

Dumbledore inclined his head, his eyes now twinkling. "I will see that appropriate materials are added to our library, Miss Granger. In the meantime, your discretion is to be commended." The man was being purposefully obtuse, Remus decided. Hermione blushed. The poor girl probably wasn't sure if she had been complimented or chastened.

The headmaster stood and went to open the door, "Now, I believe your friends are waiting for you. Shall we?"

_fin___


End file.
